Root
by Tashilover
Summary: When Castiel lands comatose on Bobby's living room floor, Sam and Dean take dream root to wake him. Slash.


A/N: I'm not one to put warnings in my fics, but recent activity made me think differently.

**Warnings: **Mentions of torture, Hell, gore, cursing, occasional blasphemy and chick flick moments.

R/R, peeps.

()

_FWUMP_

Bobby jerked at the noise, nearly dropping the bottle of beer he had in his hand. Immediately he twisted around and opened his silverware drawer and took out one of the hidden handguns he had stashed around his house.

Bobby cocked back the hammer and slowly made his way towards the sound.

He paused at the corner, taking a moment to listen for any further noises. When he heard none, he thought maybe a large book fell off from one of its cases. He wasn't going to take a chance that it wasn't and turned the corner, gun aimed, finger ready.

He recognized the figure on his floor immediately. "Cas?"

Castiel did not react to his name. The angel was on his back, one leg bent, his arm draped across his stomach. His head was turned towards Bobby, eyes closed, mouth slightly opened. It looked as if he just decided to take a nap in the middle of Bobby's floor, except Castiel's skin was deadly pale and he didn't seem to be breathing.

()

"And that's how I found him."

Sam glanced over at Castiel. The angel laid unnaturally still on the couch. "How long has he been asleep?"

"Two days. Hasn't moved since."

"Hey, Cas," Dean leaned over him and poked him nonchalantly in the shoulder. "I'll buy you a cheeseburger if you wake up."

"Dude," Sam chastised. "That's not funny."

Dean shrugged. "C'mon it's a little funny." When Sam scowled at him, he rolled his eyes. "He'll wake up, Sam. He always does."

"That's not what I'm worried about. How many things do we know can take down an angel? Can take down Cas? What I'm worried about is what's hunting him, what put him in this state."

Dean looked down at Castiel, his eyebrows furrowing in thought. "Well, whatever it is, he got away from it. We can't do much until he wakes up."

That was the plan. It wasn't a good one, but Sam had to agree with Dean. Whoever put Castiel into this situation was strong. Maybe Cas killed him. Maybe he's still out there. Until the angel woke up, their best bet was to sit and wait.

They eventually moved Castiel upstairs to one of the guest rooms. They checked in on him every few hours a day. He never needed water or food or- thank God, Dean whispered- needed to use the bathroom. He also never moved, never twitched, or reacted to any type of stimulus.

"I don't like this," Dean said on Castiel's eighth day of unconsciousness. "He's never been out for this long before."

Sam pressed his palm over the angel's forehead. "Can angels get sick?"

"What, you think Cas is suffering from angel-flu?"

"Maybe. Dean, look, something is affecting him and I don't think we should wait around to see what. We need to do something."

()

Sam was hesitant. "I'm not sure if this is a good idea."

"Yeah, well," Dean interjected at him. "If you got a better idea, I would like to hear it."

Sam took a moment to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from reacting at Dean's sarcastic tone. "Dean, you need to realize we're about to enter an _angel's _subconscious. Cas has probably seen things that might, I don't know, mentally destroy us."

Dean doesn't even pause as he cuts a lock of hair from Jimmy Novak's head. "Dude, it's Cas," he said and dropped a few strands in Sam's mustard colored drink. "We can't leave him like this. And besides, we've both been to heaven and hell. I think we can handle whatever Cas can throw at us."

"If it is Cas," Bobby leaned against the door frame, his eyes trained on the unconscious angel lying motionless on the bed. "Don't be surprised if you end up in the subconscious of the meatsuit."

"The thought has occurred to me," Dean sighed and dropped his own strands into his dreamroot drink. "You gonna keep watch?"

"Like I have a choice."

Dean raised his glass in a mock cheer and drained the glass in one go. He immediately shuddered as his tongue registered the taste. "Oh, that's nasty."

Sam placed a palm over his mouth. "Mmmhm…" He agreed, grimacing. He coughed and managed to keep it down. "How do you think this all started? Who's the idiot who thought putting this in their mouth was a good idea?"

Sam looked up, expecting to see and hear Dean's sarcastic retort and jumped back in surprise.

His back hit the pew and he dropped the bible onto his lap. Dean was to his right, equal shock on his face, a similar bible in his own hands. "Dude, what the hell?"

This wasn't like the last few times they took dreamroot, where their environment slowly changed to fit the subconscious of the person. They weren't in Bobby's guestroom or his house. They were inside a very large, very empty church.

"Figures," Dean muttered, placing the bible to side. "This would be in Cas' mind."

"It's beautiful," Sam breathed, looking around. "I think it's Notre Dame."

Beyond the few movies Dean has seen about the hunchback (Disney version included) he had very little idea what Notre Dame looked like. He had to agree with Sam though, as he glanced at the dozens of lit candles and sparkling stain glass windows; it was beautiful.

"Hey," Sam slapped his arm and pointed towards the front of the church. "Is that him?"

A lone figure sat at first pew. It looked like Castiel, except he wasn't wearing his trademark trench coat.

"Looks like," Dean stalked forwards. "Cas?" He said out loud, his voice bouncing off the walls.

At his name, Castiel whipped his head around and abruptly stood. "Dean?" He hissed. "Sam, is that really you two?"

The Winchesters shared a look. The voice coming out of Castiel was not the deep, scratchy tones they were used to.

Hesitantly, Sam asked, "Jimmy?"

"Yeah!" Jimmy breathed. He walked towards them, eyes wide and disbelieving. "Are you guys really here? You're not one of Castiel's thoughts?"

"No, it's us. Uh, what is this?"

"This? This is where Cas sends me when he's occupying my body." Jimmy threw his arms wide, but it is a weak gesture. Obviously the novelty of the church has worn off.

Sam asked, "Are you the only one here?"

Jimmy nodded. He gestured to the large ordained doors up front. "None of the doors open. I can't break the glass windows, the candles don't burn out. Hell," he bent down and snatched up one of the bibles from the pews. He flipped it open. There's no text. "I can't even read here. There's nothing but me."

"Can you leave?" Dean asked though he already knew the answer.

"I've tried. I can't."

Well, ain't that just a kick in the balls? Dean can imagine enjoying the sight of Notre Dame for a little while, but the idea of being stuck in here for (crap- nearly three years?) days on end is pushing it. Even worse, they were not here for Jimmy. "Is Cas here? Have you seen him?"

Anger passed over Jimmy's face. "No, and I don't care to."

Sam stepped in, lowering his voice to the gentle tone he reserves only for victims. "Jimmy, Cas has been unconscious for over a week now and shows no sign of waking up. We think something very bad has happen to him but we need to wake him up to find out what."

Jimmy tightened his jaw and turned his head away. Sam could see Jimmy's trying to keep from yelling. "I don't know," he spoke, his voice strained. "Nothing ever changes here."

Dean stalked towards one of the doors. Jimmy may be confined here, but because of the dreamroot, he and Sam had a certain amount of control of their environment. He grasped one of the handles and tugged, the door swung open a few inches.

The look on Jimmy's face was priceless. He rushed over to Dean and tried to open the door wider, to allow himself through. The moment Jimmy's hand landed on the door, it closed shut with an echoing slam.

"Damn it!" Jimmy jerked away. He shook his head. "I can't leave. I can't. You can, maybe, but not me."

Sam rested a hand on his shoulder. "It's okay."

"Go screw yourself," Jimmy hissed, throwing off his hand. "Just go. It's obvious you didn't come here for me."

Sam opened his mouth and shut it quickly. Really, what do you say to something like that? _Sorry our rescue plans doesn't include you?_ Instead, Sam made his way towards Dean.

The door opened easily just like the first time. Bright light shined through, blinding Dean from seeing the outside. Just as he was about to step through, he paused. "Jimmy," he called back to the man. "Your family is safe. We've made sure of that."

Jimmy's gave off some kind of choking noise, clapping a hand across his mouth.

Without another word, Dean and Sam stepped through the doors.

And in front of them is Bobby's junkyard.

Sam jerked and twisted around, expecting to see the church. The junkyard was all that surrounded them. "Cas dreams of Bobby's place?"

"I don't know, man," Dean peered around. Every car in the junk yard was the Impala. Every single one. "This may be our influence."

God, he doesn't hope so. Not even in his head would he dare sully his baby like this. It's almost painful to see different versions of his car smashed to hell, piled up on top of each other, their wheels missing and their windshields caved in. "C'mon," he cannot look anymore. "Let's look inside the house."

Sam kept looking from side to side, not at all disturbed by the sight. The yard was empty, Castiel nowhere in sight. Sam turned to walk up the steps and found a barrel of a shotgun aimed straight at his face.

Dean was holding the gun. "Back away slowly."

Except Dean was standing _right next to him. _And aiming a similar shotgun to _that _Dean's face was himself.

"Dean, what's going on?" Sam backed away from their dream versions.

"Do I look like I know?" Dean backed off too, holding up his hands in a calming manner.

"You're not allowed inside," Dream-Sam hissed, pulling the shotgun back as soon as Dean stepped off the porch stairs. "Leave this place."

"Look, we're just trying to find Cas," Dean said. "Just point us into his direction and we'll go."

Dream-Dean narrowed his eyes at him. "Who are you?"

"Uh, duh, we're you- us- me… I'm Dean and that's Sam."

Dream-Sam doesn't even blink. His hand shot out and grasped Dean by the shoulder, his fingers digging deeply.

Dean hissed and knocked Dream-Sam's arm away. "What the hell?"

"It's them," Dream-Sam said to Dream-Dean.

"Alright then," Dream-Dean stepped aside, gestured with his arm for them to go in.

"So… what? You guys are guards to Cas' subconscious?" Sam asked. He stepped onto the first step, unsure.

"We are. We keep his secrets safe from outsiders."

"That's, uh, interesting," a shared look with Dean told him it really wasn't. "Uh, why do you two look like us?"

Dream-Dean cocked his head at him. "Who else would you have guarding your secrets?"

Sam nearly flinched at that, though he doesn't know why. It should be flattering, really, but it's actually quite unsettling knowing an _angel _depended so much on them. Shouldn't it be the other way around? Shouldn't Sam have a version of Castiel in his mind, guarding his secrets?

The Dream-Winchesters don't bother to look at them anymore and resumed their guard. When Dean tried to ask them if they knew where Castiel was at, he was ignored.

There was no flash of light when they enter Bobby's house. Unlike the yard, Bobby's house resembled the real life one, complete with library and stocked refrigerator.

"Why would Cas have Bobby's house in his mind?" Dean murmured. He mulled around, touching the walls with little care. "It doesn't make sense."

"Well, this is home base," Sam said. He was amazed by the detail Castiel envisioned. There were books in Bobby's library that weren't in his real library. He almost wanted to stay and read for a while. "Or maybe, like you said, it's our influence leaking through."

"Yeah, maybe. CAS!" Sam jumped at Dean's unexpected yell. "Where are you? Are you here? Cas!"

Dean opened the doors to the kitchen. Zachariah was the face that greeted him.

Dean lurched back, slamming into the stone wall behind him. He looked back to Zachariah who seemed to be ignoring him. "Sam?"

"I'm here," Sam was on the other side of the room. No longer was it Bobby's kitchen. Instead it resembled some kind of medieval dungeon. There were chains hanging off the wall and water dripping down the cold slabs of stone.

But Sam isn't looking at Zachariah. He's looking at the shirtless figure, strapped down on the table in the middle of the room.

Castiel has his arms stretched out besides him, eagle spread. His shoeless, sockless feet were bound together in a mock crucifix form. He was breathing desperately hard, sweat emphasizing his pale skin and ribs. He struggled to get breath to speak. "He deserves to know," he coughed out. "he-"

Zachariah twitched his fingers.

Castiel arched his back off the stone and gave off a horrifying scream of pain.

Dean started forward and Sam held up his hand. "It's a memory, Dean. There's nothing you can do."

That doesn't stop Dean from trying. He took a swing at Zachariah, his arm passed uselessly through him.

"He will know, Castiel," Zachariah said cheerfully, pacing around him. "After it happens."

"No. It doesn't have to be this way. Nobody has to die."

The fingers twitched again. There was no obvious wound to be seen but blood was seeping out from somewhere. Little droplets collected on Castiel's forehead and bare chest, gathering together until they ran freely down the side, leaving red trails on Cas' skin. It was as if he was sweating blood.

Castiel jerked at the twitch of Zachariah's fingers, another scream echoing from his mouth. "Of course people will die. It's the apocalypse," Zachariah explained. "But you're not seeing the big picture. You know what will happen when Sam breaks the final seal."

Castiel gasped. "Lucifer."

"Then Michael," Zachariah nodded in appreciation. "It's destiny, Castiel. This will happen."

"I have faith-"

"Faith in _whom? _Hmm? God? Heaven? Or…" he leaned down and hissed into Cas' ear. _"Dean Winchester?"_

Castiel isn't even given a chance to answer. Zachariah's fingers twitched and Castiel is screaming again. Zachariah doesn't let up this time, and the screaming goes on for what feels like hours to Sam. It stopped when Zachariah passed a hand over and Castiel collapsed boneless on the stone.

"That's blasphemy," Zachariah sneered. "How dare you."

"Can we get out of here?" Dean turned away from the scene and began slapping his hand against the walls.

Sam stared at him. "Dean-"

"I'm pretty sure Cas doesn't want us looking at his inner most thoughts," Dean snapped at him. "Besides, we already know how this turns out."

Dean has his back turned but he could still hear Zachariah's smug voice, Castiel's labored breathing.

"There's nothing but pain here, Castiel. In Paradise, all will be forgiven. Dean will be at peace, even with Sam."

The walls gave away to Dean's insistent pushing. He stepped through and landed right back in Bobby's kitchen. There was a moment of disorientation in which Dean had to steady himself against a wall. Sam too nearly tripped over his own feet, pausing to make sure his body was going to stay upright.

Dean spoke. "That was random."

"No kidding," Sam shook his head, glancing around the kitchen. It looked like Bobby's kitchen, smelled like it. "What is it that Cas has here?"

"Uh, well judging from our handsome twins out in the front… guarding Cas' hidden memories?" Dean shrugged.

Well, it made sense. Kinda. "Should we leave?" Sam asked. "I mean, like you said, these are Cas' memories. We shouldn't be looking at them."

"We need to find Cas first."

"No argument there, but do we even know where we're looking for?"

Sometimes Sam felt like an idiot for asking such stupid, obvious question, but he knew some questions needed to be asked. He wasn't the only one thinking it.

Dean glanced around Bobby's living room, scratching the back of his head absently. Of course they didn't know where they could find Castiel. "I think the only thing we can do is keep looking and hope Cas will forgive us for peeking into his mind. C'mon."

Sam followed Dean up the stairs to the main bedrooms. Even the same steps squeaked when stepped on. It boggled Sam to no end. Why had Castiel chosen Bobby's place for his secrets? He'd placed Jimmy in Notre Dame, so why didn't his memories get the same treatment? Why not heaven, or someplace more elusive, like the Great Wall of China?

Why _Bobby's?_

The second floor looked relatively the same, except every door to every room was closed. Even the room that had no door was closed. "Cas?" Dean said out loud to the stillness. His voice echoed off the walls and came no reply. Dean walked to the closest door, grasped the handle and said to Sam, "Ready?"

Sam's hand immediately went to his back, groping for a gun that wasn't there. It took him a second to realize that, flushed slightly, then said, "Go for it."

Dean opened the door. "Cas?"

Castiel does not turn towards him. His eyes are casted down upon the bed he stood in front of, just watching.

Sam was hesitant as he asked, "Dude… is he watching you sleep?"

It was creepy for Dean to watch himself sleep on a motel bed. It was creepier still, watching Castiel who was watching Dean sleep on a hotel bed. It was enough to give someone a headache.

The other bed was absent, memory-Sam nowhere to be seen. He could be in the bathroom, but most likely he was with Ruby. That was a realization Dean did not wish to dwell upon further. "Cas?" Dean tried again, moving closer.

Castiel still doesn't respond. He just stared at Dean, as if waiting for something.

"Should we go?" Sam jerked his head back towards the door. "Try another room?"

As if he heard the question, sleeping Dean gave out a low whining moan. "Please," he begged. "Please, don't, stop-"

Castiel moved. He placed two fingers against Dean's forehead and immediately Dean calmed.

"C'mon," Dean turned his back on the scene. When Sam didn't move, still watching Castiel as the angel sat on the bed, Dean elbowed him. "C'mon."

The door closed on the hotel room, and Sam let out a slow breath. "That explains a lot," he murmured.

Dean jerked his head towards him. "What?"

Sam looked sheepish. "Y'know, that," he pointed back towards the room.

"Yeah, because that explains so much."

Sam sighed, a little frustrated. "When you came back from hell, Dean, I expected… worse from you. Nightmares, uncontrollable fits- I expected PTSD to hit you so hard, you'd go into a coma or something."

"Gee, thanks for the vote of confidence."

"No, that's not… what I'm saying is, for a guy who spent half a century in hell, you came out better than expected. I always thought it was because of your stubbornness, or- or something, but now I see that it was Cas. You just saw Cas kept most of the nightmares away. Hell, he's probably the reason why you're not a drooling mess of insanity right now."

Dean considered this. "Huh," he said. "Maybe. Next door."

Sam glared at him. "Dean-"

"Sam, stop. We're not here to pick apart Cas' memories. We're here to find him, bring him back from the Matrix and kill the son of a bitch who put him here. Now c'mon. I feel like a pervert the longer I stay in here."

"You are a pervert."

"Shut up."

Truth be told, Sam kinda agreed. He liked Cas very much, but Sam never allowed himself to forget, not for one second, that his friend was an angel. It was like how Siegfried and Roy forgot their furry friend was a five-hundred pound killing machine and was nearly eaten because of it. Even if it was for Castiel's benefit, Sam can't imagine the angel would be very grateful to them for snooping around in his head.

Even more, Sam was surprised by the _lack _of angel memories. He supposed it was because he and Dean lacked the mental capacity to withstand such memories, but surely as Dream-Dean had said, these were Castiel's secrets. These were Castiel's precious memories. And so far, they were all about _Dean._

So damn wonder his brother looked so uncomfortable.

Dean opened another door, revealing a large playground and Dean and Castiel sitting on a bench.

Dean closed the door on that one. He turned to Sam. "You choose the next one."

Unfortunately that's the way a lot of their arguments ended: because it had to. This was not the time and place to be talking about Cas' weird obsession with Dean.

Sam opened the next door, expecting yet another scene involving his brother and Cas. Instead, what he saw made his throat go dry.

Castiel was being led by the hand by a petite blonde woman wearing a white negligee. She pushed him onto the bed and climbed onto his lap. "Ohhhh," Sam groaned, turning away. "I don't wanna see this…"

"Wait, wait," Dean grinned, his eyes still on the two. "Just wait."

Castiel's cheeks were red as the blonde nuzzled his neck and pushed down his coat. "I just want you to know," Castiel began, a little breathless. "That's it's not your fault."

"My fault?" The girl mumbled and nibbled his ear.

"That your father left."

The girl jerked back and stared.

"He hated his job at the post office."

The moment the girl started screaming was when Dean started laughing. And he didn't stop laughing even when Sam pulled them out of that room and back into Bobby's house. "What ever happened to, _Don't mess with Cas' memories_?" Sam demanded.

"Hey, I was there when it happened," Dean giggled. "It's part of my memory too."

Sam wasn't sure if Dean understood exactly what he'd just said.

They tried another door. Then another. And another. Each memory was different, but none was significant enough to tell them where Castiel was. There were scenes of conversations with Uriel. Conversations with Dean, with Sam, with Bobby. There were even quite a few memories of Castiel just standing there, staring out into the abyss without ever speaking a word.

"This is getting ridiculous," Sam stated as he closed the door on another memory of Dean introducing Cas to pizza. "We can't be wandering randomly into Cas' mind. This could take years to get through. There's gotta be a better way."

"If you have one, I'd like to hear it."

Dean had a point. Just not a useful one. "Okay," Sam started slowly. "Okay… um, Cas considers Bobby's home a safe house. Most of the memories here have been about us. I don't know… if you came to Bobby's house, where would you feel most safe?"

There was a moment of silence. Then the answer came upon them at the same time.

"The panic room."

They dashed down the stairs, the familiar squeaks and groans of the wood echoing under their feet. "Cas?" Dean cried out. "Cas, you down here?" When he got to the iron door, he opened the hatch first. "Cas?"

Castiel was slumped in the middle of the panic room, curled into a small ball. He didn't respond to his name.

Dean tried to open the door. It didn't budge.

He tried again, putting more weight behind his pull and the door only opened two inches before Dean's strength gave and it slammed shut.

Sam giggled.

"Screw you," Dean sneered. "Help me with this. On three. One, two, three-!"

They pulled. The door was like a vacuum, giving only a couple of inches before the strength of both boys began to wane. "Get inside!" Dean hissed, his face going red from effort.

Sam maneuvered himself between the space of the door. He could feel the metal pressing against his skin, threatening to squish and cut him in half. He stumbled forward, felt the metal almost catch his fingers as a loud _clang! _echoed behind him.

Sam looked up. And immediately regretted it.

When he'd learn that Dean was going to hell, Sam had spent countless hours imagining what hell was like. It was a horrible past time, but he couldn't help it. He imagined fire, blood, rock and bone. He'd imagined hell like how it was depicted in renaissance paintings: withering bodies, all on top of each other, desperate to escape as demons kept pulling them back down.

Sam had no words to describe what was in front of him. Even if he could think past _Oh God, _he lacked the vocabulary needed to describe this. It was hell, plain and simple.

There was a woman strung up before him, crucified, her arms stretched out before her, her wrists tied. Her chest cavity was opened, her lungs and still beating heart in clear view. And standing in front of her, holding a small knife was Dean.

Dean was naked, but covered in so much blood and specks of flesh, it was like he was wearing a coat of an animal he forgot to skin.

He was smiling.

Sam wanted to turn away, desperate to keep the image of his brother untainted. Dean wouldn't want Sam to see him like this. But like a train wreck, he couldn't look away; even when Dean started to pull out the woman's lung.

"Dean Winchester."

Both Dean and Sam jerked at voice. Dean was less surprised than Sam, but Sam was so grateful for the sight he nearly wept.

Castiel was not the glorious picture of angel. There were no wings, no light, not even his sword was drawn. It was just the meat suit of Jimmy Novak. He was the white dot on a black canvas, and Sam had no choice but to stare and be grateful for it.

Castiel stepped forward. "I have found you."

Dean swung at him, the knife slicing through the air with an audible scream. The knife made contact with Castiel's arm and it snapped in half, leaving nothing more than a blood stain on the trench coat.

Dean was horrified now. He tried to step back but Castiel grabbed him, pulled him forward and kissed him.

Sam could hear the screams of millions all around him. He could feel the spray of blood on the back of his neck and smell the stench of rotting flesh all around him. Really, in such an environment, watching Castiel kiss his brother should've been insignificant. It wasn't.

Something was _happening. _The gallons of blood on Dean began to melt away, leaving nothing but smooth peach skin. Even the visceral that was two inches thick on the floor- it was like the world's worse wadding pool- seemed to push itself away from Dean's feet.

The moment Dean was clean, Castiel pulled away.

Dean collapsed and Castiel caught him, held him close as he gently sunk towards the ground. And there Castiel kneeled, with Dean in his arms, staring at him.

It took Sam several deep breaths to gain the confidence to speak in this place. And when he did, his voice cracked. "Cas?"

Castiel's head snapped up. "Sam?"

Oh God, it was him. It was really him, not just some memory. "Who are you?" Castiel demanded, pulling Dean closer to him. "How did you get here?"

Sam stepped forward. He tried to ignore the feeling of his blood soaked socks in his blood soaked shoes. "Cas, it's me. You were… attacked like a week ago and been unconscious since. Dean and I took dreamroot to find a way to wake you up."

"Dreamroot?" Castiel's eyes narrowed in concentration. "This is not real," he stated. "This is a dream."

"Yeah, that's right. You need to wake up."

"What about Dean?" He looked down upon the man in his arms. "I can't leave him here."

"That is not the real Dean. He's outside, the uh, panic room. He's fine. He's waiting for you."

"I can't-"

"GODDAMN IT!" Dean's voice from somewhere high above was screaming at them. "SAM, CAS, GET THE HELL OUT OF THERE! THIS DOOR IS TOO DAMN HEAVY!"

Castiel looked back down at the Dean in his arms. Settled him gently on the ground and stood. "Okay," he said softly. "I'm waking up."

And just like that, Castiel did.

Sam jerked, sat up so fast that Bobby jumped in surprise. On his right, Dean gave a short gasp and sat up quickly too. His eyes darted around the room until they landed on Bobby, sighed in relief.

Castiel was the only one who sat up slowly, pushing the blankets off of him.

"Cas?" Sam began. "You okay?"

He didn't even look at Sam. "I'm fine," he said. He took a few moments to rub his neck, to blink the sleep out of his eyes. "How long have I been out?"

"A little over a week."

"A week…"

"Well?" Dean said impatiently. "Are you going to tell us what the hell happened to you? We spent the better part of three hours wandering around in your head and we found nothing to clue us in."

"You-I-what?"

Sam watched as Castiel's eyes shifted, then widened as he seemed to remember who he saw before he woke up. Sam had seen the angel embarrassed and confused before, but now he looked downright humiliated.

And then he did what anyone else would do in such a situation: he ran away. "I have to go," Castiel breathed, disappearing from view.

"Are you kidding me?" Dean yelled, jumping off the bed. "Are freakin' kidding me?"

()

Sam waits till he knows he can have at least an hour uninterrupted before calling down Castiel. Dean went to the pool hall to earn some cash and Sam faked a headache to stay behind. "You baby," Dean had snickered lightly.

"So, you wanna tell me what the hell is going on?"

Castiel does not respond right away. Instead, he stalked through their tiny hotel room, peering into the bathroom and kitchen area. "Where's Dean?"

"Out. Wanna tell me what the hell is going on?"

Sam-"

"No, Cas. You owe us an explanation. I was mindful enough to wait till Dean was gone, but we have a right to know what the _hell _that was."

Castiel sighed, visibly defeated. Sam was surprised by how much this angel had changed since he first met him. If Sam had so much even _looked_ funny at Castiel, the angel would've probably smashed his face through a door.

But now Sam can verbally talk down the angel, even bully him a bit. Of course, he had to remind himself Castiel can still run his head through that door, regardless of how great their friendship was. "What attacked you?"

"A god," Castiel finally said. "Kronos."

It took a second for the name to register in Sam's head. "Kronos? You mean, the _Greek god _Kronos?"

"I came to him, hoping I could make an alliance. That didn't happen."

Sam wondered why he's even surprised by this. "Okay, so what happened? He beat you into a coma?"

"Not exactly. As an angel, I too have power over time and space. Since he could not trap me in a random point of history, he trapped me in my own memories, intended for me to relive through them for all eternity."

Sam let Castiel talk, listening but not really caring. He waited till he was sure Kronos was not going to hunt down Castiel, hunt down him and Dean, when he interrupted with, "Are you in love with my brother?"

Castiel never hesitates. He was the type of person to make a decision within a second, and he'd accept the consequences willingly if he believed he was right. The moment Castiel hesitated in answering Sam's question, Sam had his answer. "Holy crap," he breathed, turning away. "I had my suspicions, but I thought that that was just you being you. Not… geeze…" Sam paused, realizing something else. "Hey, you're not in love with _me, _are you?"

Castiel blanched, and Sam felt a little offended. "No," the angel said. "Your brother… does he know?"

Sam laughed. "No. Dean's smart, but office romances are not his forte."

"Office-?"

"Never mind. But Cas, really? Seriously? Are you sure?"

It's funny, now that Sam has thought about, he has never seen Castiel smile. In fact, Sam has seen Castiel express every negative emotion a person could have. He has never seen Castiel laugh, grin, or even joke.

So why does it surprise Sam to expect a smile out of Castiel now, when he's never done so before?

Instead, Castiel seemed almost disgusted with himself, the way his face contorts in doubt. "I went to hell to rescue Dean on orders. I was appointed to watch over him on orders." He bowed his head. "For the longest time, I thought what I felt for him was just… I was supposed to be nothing more than Dean's guide. Ready him till the day Michael took his sword."

Sam sat down on the bed, trying desperately to keep his poker face. Castiel was obviously very conflicted by this, but Sam was finding it hard not to laugh. It was like a soap opera. _It's about an angel asking his human to love him. _"So what changed?" He asked gently.

"You saw the memory of when I saved him."

The kiss. "Yeah."

"Dean's rescue was not instantaneous. It took us years to reach him. And it took us even longer to leave." Castiel's voice got softer, his eyes glazed over as he mentally threw himself back to those moments. "I held Dean's soul in my arms for decades. Protected it until I came onto Earth. Remade his body with my Grace. For the longest time, I thought what I felt for him was a natural connection. I essentially gave birth to him. I felt responsible to guide him, to help him."

"What are you saying, Cas? Do feel like you're Dean's _mother?_"

"What?" Castiel blinked in surprise. "No. No, no of course not. More like his guardian. A mentor, a guide. But things should have never gone as far as they did. I started to see Dean more than just the human I raised from Hell. He became something much more."

"So you _think _you're in love with him."

"Perhaps."

Now that was a little easier to swallow. After all, Sam was in a great deal of Castiel's memories too. They were in Bobby's house. It just never occurred to Sam how much influence they really had over the angel. Dean, sure, but Sam always thought he was the third wheel in this relationship. Sam always thought Castiel as _Dean's angel. _Hell, for all Sam knew, Castiel was in love with _him._

Wow. Totally not going to dwell on that. "Are you going to tell him?"

"Dean has enough on his plate. He doesn't need this."

"You should." Not that Sam will believe Dean would return those feelings, but at least Castiel would get some sort of closure.

"Maybe," Castiel said. "Is that all?"

Sam knew then Castiel will never tell Dean. "You're okay, right? We're not going to find you comatose again, are we?"

"I'm fine," was all the answer Sam got before Castiel disappeared in a gust of wind and feathers.

**End.**


End file.
